


Swagger

by the_desk_fairy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically I’m sayin either way we bout to slide, F/M, Gangster/Good Girl, Hot Sex, I could give you thug passion, Light D/s, Man Snack Thug!Hux, Tattoo Kink, Total Thirst Fic, WAP!Rose, crack attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_desk_fairy/pseuds/the_desk_fairy
Summary: Click for sexy gangster Hux with snackable neck tats.[NOW with tasty thug daddy Kylo!]
Relationships: (mentioned) past Finn/Rose, Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Armjtage Hux/You, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 46
Kudos: 109





	1. I Want that Cruel Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends, here’s a little thirst to get your day going.
> 
> I finished watching Good Girls and was like... hmmm I think maybe on the right guy neck tats could actually be super hot.
> 
> And then I wrote this.
> 
> Please enjoy. (I claim no responsibility for any neck tat licking that occurs as a result of reading this story.)
> 
> THANK YOU to @ElfMaidenofLight, @Britinthewoods01 and @caramel_sins for doing amazing beta work!! Thanks squad!!!
> 
> TW: mentions of cancer, chemo, light D/S

“I don’t get it.” 

Paige stares at her, mouth half open. Her fine black brows pinch together.

“Paid in full?” 

Those are big words —life changing words, but Paige says them like an accusation.

“Yeah,” Rose gulps down her ramen. “I couldn’t believe it either, guess that insurance kicked in after all?”

“What insurance, Rose?”

Rose swallows.  _ Don’t ruffle her. Don’t get her blood pressure up. She doesn’t need another seizure. _

“Dunno…” she says casually, “Maybe we have an anonymous angel donor?” She grabs the remote and turns up the football game. “Hey, look it’s your future husband, Russel Wilson!”

“Rose.” Paige’s gaze shrinks into a suspicious, scrutinizing beam. “What did you do?” 

Rose can feel her sister's scrutiny boring into her.

“Ha, what did I do… you’re hilarious. Like I could come up with 30 grand overnight.”

The crowd at Seahawk Stadium is roaring on the television screen, but it sounds underwater in Rose’s ears. Her breath feels like mercury in her lungs.

The smell of the gas station on 23rd and Pine, the stale corn dog odor mixed with unwashed humans: her nose hasn’t stopped burning with it. Fluorescent lights still stain her eyes. The little squeaks of her Nike’s on the dirty linoleum are still ringing in her ears. Guilt curdles in her stomach and glosses her vision. She almost cried in her ski mask, too.

_ HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM! _

“I don’t get it.” Paige repeats and sets aside the document from UW Medical Center.

Rose exhales heavily, she knows her sister well enough to sense when she’s dropped a line of questioning. For now.

“We should celebrate! Your surgery is paid for!” she says, sounding giddy. “We can get Starbucks tomorrow before I go to work!” 

“I don’t think we have the money for Starbucks, Rose.” Paige’s voice is solemn.

_ HANDS UP MOTHAFUCKA! I don’t want your cash drawer shit, open the safe in the back! I said move, bitch! _

Paige adds, “I shouldn’t have sugar on a chemo day anyway, it just makes me feel worse.”

“Yeah, makes sense.” Rose settles back into the caved-in couch that lines the far wall in their one bedroom apartment. 

The white christmas lights tacked to the crumbling walls cast a dim glow about the sisters. They slide into an uneasy silence, watching the Seahawks take the 49ers, ignoring the pile of angry, red-typeface mail piled on the kitchen counter. 

They ignore the empty fridge, the saline headache from packaged ramen for dinner, the rent coming up. They laugh at a puppy commercial and whistle when the camera zooms in on Russel Wilson toweling his gleaming, sweat-stained brow.

Outside, the streets of South Tacoma are washed in gloomy, faded darkness. 

The Beamer slows to a crawl. 

Soft, spitting rain beads on the windshield; the glossy surface of the luxury car glints meanly in the night as the driver cuts the lights. He looks up into the second story window. 

_ She hasn’t even bothered to draw the shades. So innocent. _

A flashing screen casts changing shades of light onto her rapt face, her dark eyes pour with warmth that pools inside him, making his cock twitch. She’s not playing, she’s the real thing. The sides of her eyes crinkle when she laughs.

_ You don’t even know what you just did, mama. _

He wets his lips. A pale, tatted hand twists the dial on his dashboard, turning up the dulcet rhythm of trap hats over a long, distorted bass. His head tips back against the headrest; lazy, unhurried. He watches her with the predatory ease of a spider lounging in the corner of a tightly strung web. His prey will inevitably flutter into his snare. 

No rush.

+++

Rose shuts off the motor of her rusting ‘98 Honda Civic. She scratches at the nasty polyester neckline of her Wendy’s uniform and yanks out the achingly-tight hair tie. She feels sticky, crabby and exhausted. Her phone buzzes from the cup holder.

F:  _ She’s still in the women’s bathroom puking but we’re joking about how green smoothies are just salad vomit anyway. _

Rose types back quickly.

R: _ You bought her a smoothie? Omg, Finn you are like the sweetest human. _

F:  _ Yeah, probably would have been nicer if I would have just gotten her home quick instead of stopping at the food co-op to force feed her organic bullshit, but she seemed pretty ok before. _

R:  _ It varies so much day to day, sometimes she’s like, fine for a while after chemo and then the drugs just hit her. _

F:  _ I’ll text you when we leave. Sounds like it will be a minute… _

R: _ Ugh, God! You’re a hero, Finn. _

F: _ Pretty sure you’re the hero. I don’t know how you do this every day. _

Rose tucks her phone into her purse and climbs out of the car. 

The lock to the apartment is stickier than usual and she jiggles the key, finally flinging open the door with an annoyed huff.

“Back a little late, are we?”

Rose drops her purse and screams.

Leaning against the door frame to the kitchen is a tall, wiry man with a pistol tucked into his black jeans. He strides toward her, cat-like: lithe, with a confident roll in his hips that says, this is  _ my _ house, what are  _ you _ doing here?

The man is covered in threatening tattoos. His flaming red hair is cropped and faded on the sides and long on the top, neatly gelled and set back, Philly style. His lips twist with regal arrogance, and he’s bedecked with a thin gold chain and understated gold studs in his ears. Street royalty.

Rose makes a small, strangled sound. Her eyes dart down toward her spilled purse like she’s about to lunge for her phone.

Before she can move, the toe of his black Chucks reaches and taps the side of her phone. It goes spinning across the carpet, under the couch. Their eyes meet.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His eyes are twin thunderstorms of a dark, tense green.

He shrugs out of his bomber jacket, revealing a narrow, yet deliciously structured form inside his black tank. The jacket goes onto the couch with a casual toss; her mouth goes dry.

He’s elegant, inked in the monochrome swirl of blue tattoos. They sketch from his fingers, up his sculpted arms, over his muscular shoulders, finishing with a flourish of angel wings across the pale column of his neck. She can see crucifixes woven with elaborate text, dates, roman numerals —a foregin language to a good girl like her. Long, sensuous copper eyelashes beat against two little blue teardrops. Those tattoos she does know.

“Where’s my money?” His voice is low, quiet, heightening the menace of his sheer presence. He doesn’t have to yell, threaten, or move aggressively for her to know that she’s in serious danger. The room darkens around him, she can taste the bitter tang of his deadliness in the air.

“What money?” she squeaks.

“23rd and Pine.” His brows flick. “Last Tuesday.”

“How did you…” she flusters.

“You’ve got a lot of balls, mama,” he says. “Fuckin with the First Order.” He rolls up on her, smooth as velvet, invading her space before she can cope with his graceful body.

“I don’t know what you mean!” she says raspily.

“You didn’t seriously think a regular gas station would have 50 G’s lying around in their safe?”

Rose stutters, reaching for words that slip away from her.

“How’d you do it?” His stoic, cocky face scans her fearful one.

“I had no other choice!” she blubbers, eyes filling with tears. “I’m not that kind of person —I used a water gun!”

“Naw, I mean…” He stops short. “A water gun? Really?”

She nods, wiping her eyes.

He makes a little hissing sound that almost strikes her as a laugh.

“So, you pay your bills?” He gestures acutely at the pile of letters on the counter. “Go shopping, or what?”

“I paid UW Medicine for my sister’s surgery.”

His features tighten.

“How much?” 

“30 thousand.”

This time his hiss does not sound like a laugh.

“How long do you think before the feds come after you for counterfeit money?” The fact that his patronizing smirk is gone makes her gut punch with dread. This shit just got real.

“Counterfeit?” Her heart stops. “I mean...” She collects herself. “I’m not stupid, I figured I had to wash it anyway.”

“You.” A sprig of red hair loosens from his slicked back style and splashes against his forehead. “ _ You _ washed it?”

“I know I can’t just drop thirty thousand dollars of stolen money, ok?” she scoffs at him. “I bought a bunch of stuff from smaller shops… like, guitars and amplifiers ...a really nice cello.”

“A cello.” His lips quirk.

“Yeah. Then I returned them a few days later.” Her eyes fall to the ground.

“You washed 30 Gs in a week.”

“Well… yes… I guess.”

She notices the carnivorous smile on his lips has dropped; his eyes sift over her with what feels like something different. Respect, maybe?

“Not bad, mama.” 

He sounds like honey whiskey: a rich, baritone sweetness. His quiet, smooth liquor voice seeps into her head, lulling her. 

“Just one question, though.” He steps closer, his middle finger sliding a loose, raven curl away from her face. Rose’s stomach flutters. 

“How are you gonna get me my money if you ain’t got it?”

Her pulse quickens, heart flailing like a bird caught in a net. Brown eyes flash with alarm.

“I… I’ll… I’ll get you the money,” she fumbles. “I’ll rob another gas station!”

He’s perilously close to her now, she’s sure he can hear her heart skittering like a rabbit. Her rapid breaths only serve to draw in more of his dark, velvety smell. She feels a trickle wetting her panties.

_ Danger! Danger! _ Her chest pounds. 

“Right.” He drags out the vowel so she can hear his skepticism. “With your water gun.”

He reaches up again and drags his thumb down her lips. Her gaze is searing him.  _ So eager, sweet girl.  _ She trembles under his touch, but he feels her begin to unwind, unhinge.

“So you want to be a little gangbanger, huh?” he basses, plunging his thumb into her mouth, sweeping over her upper lip as she gushes pathetically for him.

“No!” she whimpers. But she doesn’t pull away.

“You know you’re in First Order territory, little one?” He cups the back of her head. “We take care of our own here.” Knuckles graze her cheek, the text across them difficult to read in the elaborate, old school style. Finally she puts it together: “SELF MADE.”

“I don’t need your help!” she growls, pushing his hand away.

This rejection is a typical pretense of good girls, he knows. He’s patient. He can wait a little longer.

“So cold,” he mocks, those full, perfect lips hitching up to one side.

She stares at his mouth. Her pussy squelches and gulps inside her panties. That face, so unreadable and mysterious, chin tipped at her with imperious brass.  _ Swagger. _ He knows he’s going to be ripping her clothes off in minutes and it is so damn infuriating. Rose swallows.

“I have twenty thousand dollars,” she says. He’s leaning in toward her now; her tiny gasps are coming shallow.

“Where, mama?” he breathes against the side of her cheek. His deep inhale across her dewy skin makes her stomach flood with heat.

“Under my bed,” she whispers.

“Show me,” he commands, softly. That’s what gets her. He’s not the kind of guy who has to shout: his authority is so palpable, even barely above a whisper. Her insides twist with desire.

Rose leads him to the bedroom. Paige’s bed is pushed up against one wall: it’s just a mattress stacked on some pallets with a milk crate for a night stand. Rose’s is the same. Beyoncé, Gilmore Girls and Seahawks posters line the walls, more christmas lights serve as the room’s lamp. A rush of shame fills her.

“We had to sell our mom’s house and all our stuff,” she blurts. “Paige’s first round of treatment was pretty brutal...”

His gently reproving look shuts her up instantly.

_ What the fuck am I saying, this guy doesn’t care if my furniture sucks, he’s probably done time in prison! _

Her pulse revs so intensely she hears a ringing in her ears. This should not be happening. She shouldn't be alone in her bedroom with some ex con, drug dealer, gangbanger, kingpin, thug lord…

“Here’s your money.” She drags out from under her mattress the reusable grocery bag full of dead presidents and offers it to him, her spine tingling with dread. “I’ll get the rest as soon as I can.”

“Why don’t you keep it,” his eyes rake over her again, like he’s seeing something.  _ Seeing her. _ “Hell, 30 Gs in a week? I’ll bet you could wash this by Sunday.”

He dares to meet her eyes and catches the flicker of fear there; but he also sees a spark of defiance, an unwillingness to let the bullshit system keep her down. He likes that. Oh yes, that is something he can fucking work with.

“Bring this back to me clean and we’ll call it even.” He nods at the bag.

Those are stupidly good terms, but Rose panics, “I don’t want to launder money, that was a one time thing!”

“Seems like you’re good at it.”

Anger flashes in her. 

“Seems like a quick way to end up in jail!”

“Your sister.” He cocks his head. “She's still sick?”

“Yes,” Rose deflates.

“She got bills?”

“Yeah.” Rose’s knees buckle and she folds onto the bed, blinking rapidly. She feels him sink beside her. His weight pulls the old mattress down into a valley that draws her toward him like a black hole.

“You think it’s fair you gotta work your ass off at Wendy’s while those assholes down at Merril-Lynch play solitaire all day with people’s money and then get a government bail out when they screw over the poor?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” She’s leaning on the bed, falling toward his intoxicating charisma.

“It’s just monopoly money.” He tilts back, propped on one thick, sloping arm, assailing her with his stormy eyes. “‘Except the government deals it to the players who have them in their rich pockets.” He smirks. “The First Order, we’re just the dealers for hood rats and thugs like you and me.”

“I’m not a hood rat,” she snorts.

He grasps her chin between his thumb and forefinger. His gaze catches her off guard, like he sees what her useless Wendy’s manager can’t, what even Paige wouldn’t dare to Dmadmit.

“No,” he says, tilting her head up appraisingly. “You’re no rat.” His face draws in closer to her. Heat rises in her body and she’s sinking into him. Lips part, breaths brush across sensitivme skin. “You’re a queen,” he whispers.

They meet. 

Her lips close softly, timidly on his plush, big ones. He vibrates against her like a tethered monster and lets her kiss him exploringly, only just barely kissing her back. Copper lashes fan against his cheekbones, tenderness brushing against the marks of cruelty.  _ Do the teardrops mean felonies or murders? _

Rose shivers and kisses him more; wetter, open mouthed. Faster.  _ God, how does he taste this good?  _ She senses she’s provoking him, his dam of cool restraint is cracking. His sternum is reverberating with a low moan.

Something snaps.

He grabs her shoulders and tosses her back, pinning her to the bed in one quick motion.

_ Killer. _ She acknowledges instantly.  _ He’s killed people. He’s murdered. Oh my fucking God. _ Her pulse spikes through the roof, wild with fright and arousal.

“Hush, mama.” He kisses her longingly, searchingly. The edges of his mouth pull at hers,teasing.He’s still toying with her, even as she feels his desire brush stiffly against her leg. 

_ Fuck, he’s like, really big. _ Her pussy pools with curiosity. 

Feeling her start to surrender, his sleek tongue plunges delicately into her mouth; claiming, possessing her. His lips are just as seductive and winsome, coaxing her with kisses as he did words. 

He’s got her waist trapped between his thighs. Rearing back, he tugs his black tank over his head, proudly baring his entire body piece. Rose murmurs with approval.

“Like it?” He plants his hands on either side of her face and lords himself over her.

“Yeah,” she returns with a flattering little smile.

His ink is aesthetically alluring, but nothing like the body art her friend group gets. His tattoos are an anthology of personal vignettes, a catalogue of affiliations and allegiances. His ascent to power writ into his flesh. It feels intimate, him showing her his story. She traces her fingers over his chest, where a flowering rose vine wraps around a bloody heart. 

“Now yours…” His low, graveling chuckle echoes off the cinder block walls. 

Ducking down, he lifts the corner of her coarse yellow uniform shirt and teases the sensitive divot between her hip and her belly, teeth grazing her tender skin like a sweet little threat. He pushes the shirt up slowly, chasing it with soft-sucking kisses and little love bites. He gives himself small tastes of her, like it’s too dangerous for him to have her all at once. Somehow, it terrifies her more that he feels like he needs to control himself. Each inch he reveals of her, he takes as his own: thoroughly, ravenously.

Rose chuffs.  _ Wow, he is starving. _

His hands run up the inside of her shirt and push it over the hills of her breasts and off her head, drawing a pleased sound from his chest. Suddenly, his pupils look so blown out, they’re black. He traces his thumbs over the circumference of her breasts, intentionally grazing her nipples through her bra. She squeaks.

He grins wickedly, flashing her a molten look.

_ Oh no _ , her stomach knots.

He tears her bra in half, right down the middle. Her good bra. It drops limp in two defeated pieces as her ample globes bobble free.  _ Asshole! _

Her protests get tangled up in mewls as he takes her nipple into his mouth. His tongue flicks against her, overly stimulating her sensitive bud. He palms her other breast, pushing it against his face as he growls hungrily.

“No! Ah!” She squirms and writhes under him. 

“Mmmhm!” A coy grin spreads around the edge of his lips. He’s laughing, with her tit in his mouth! Laughing! Rose starts to struggle.

Big hands fly to her wrists, clamping her down on the bed almost painfully. His head comes up slowly from between her breasts; lips swollen and glistening, eyes heavy and half-sunk with lust. 

“Don’t fight me, pretty baby.” His head angles back with that hypnotizing, cocky-lax expression that makes her pussy wring. “I know who you are, angel. Ain’t nobody gonna put you in a box no more.” 

His words ignite the gasoline that’s been pouring into her stomach. Words are stolen from her mouth, but she pleads —burns for him to tell her that same fucking thing with his cock.

_ There she is,  _ he smirks. His reckless little baby hustler. A tiny boss bitch with enough nerve to hit a gas station with a water gun. She ain’t crazy, he can tell. But he can see it in her eyes, feel it the way she yields against him: she’s got that wild bitch heat that only a king like him can tame.

“I’m gonna take off your pants,” he states, voice low and smokey. Rose trembles. 

“Okay.”

She stares at the dampness of his parted lips as he unwraps her, his tongue traces the edge of his mouth like she’s a lovely little snack.  _ His snack. _ She knows he’s going down on her before he even parts her knees. Her cunt pours with desperate slick.

“Damn.” He settles between her drenched thighs. Her silky, raven-haired mound parts open to red, excited little petals dripping lushly for him.  _ Bring a bucket and a mop. _ His lips twist wryly.

He leans toward her, breath humid. Rose can’t handle how slow he’s being right now, but that leashed despotism on his face makes her clamp her mouth shut. She worms against the comforter impatiently.

He doesn’t make her wait long.

“Holy Fuuu…” 

His first long, thick-tongued stripe swipes her pussy like a credit card. He lingers at her clit, catching its shy underside with pointed laps; making her moan, winding her up like a spring. He’s slipping, soaking, drinking in her wetness, eating her like a fresh watermelon slice. She shudders, clenches; her fat ass cheeks quake against his face with the mounting tension. 

_ Aw shit.  _ His dick is throbbing, stuffing itself painfully against the front of his jeans. As much as he likes cake, this girl is gonna make him bust, and he hasn’t even sunk himself inside her.  _ Fuck.  _ The thought nearly makes him come.

Now she’s panting and mewling against him. He looks up at her face. It’s cruel, how perfect she is: heartbreakingly beautiful, a longsuffering survivor, so fucking  _ good.  _ It tears him up inside thinking of this sweet angel, caught on the cock of a monster like him.

He can’t anymore. He just can’t hold back.

His clothes are loose and around his ankles before she can lift her head to see what he’s doing. Rose’s heart starts to hammer again when she sees his pulsing, murderous length bare and looming over her.  _ Oh God, he’s huge.  _

He pounces forward, inked muscles gleaming with sweat. The slick, smooth-rolling cat has been replaced by a quick-moving, lethal tiger.

“Come here.” His hands close around her meaty thighs and he yanks her down so her pussy is flush with the edge of the bed, legs dangling over the edge. Rose bleats with real fear. He spreads her knees, eyes as dark as midnight; looking down at her cunt as her lips peel slowly apart. A snarl curls on his mouth.

He pushes into her with a grunt, head rocking back when he sheaths himself inside her hot, needy little clutch. 

Rose nearly shrieks “Ow” when he breaches her, but the exquisite sensation of him pushing apart her walls pulls out an “Ah” instead. His growling exhale sends sparks to her clit. Hips rock. He’s so filling: a solid, thick presence inside her pussy like nothing a man has ever given her. 

It prickles in the back of her head that she’s always had a thing for guys like this: the brooding knight with an old school honor code, the tenderly brutal warrior. He’s pounding at her, pummeling her cunt, compounding the feeling that he’ll be there for her. It buzzes in her clit and in her mind: she’s not alone in all this bullshit. He sees her. Her thighs roll open _wider_ for him.

“Ung...mama.” It’s all he can say. A tender, plaintive unraveling.

His hips snap against her juicy ass, making obscene slapping noises. He churns, speeding up, nearing the end of himself. Her ankles curl around his calves sweetly. The buttery soft inside of her knees rub against his tatted legs and he wonders if all her surfaces taste good. __

_ This is what happens,  _ he thinks with a flash of electricity jolting down his spine, _ you mess around, you get addicted.  _ It’s palpable, the feeling of his fixation.

His hand snakes down to pace two fingers over her clit, urging her to come with him. His swirling fingertips and ramming thrusts energize the threads of white light building at the base of her stomach, brightening, blinding until her eyes roll back and she shudders, spasming around his cock. 

As she puddles all over him, his breathing harshens. He snarls through gnashed teeth. His core judders with power, back arching painfully, spending inside her with heavy, thick spurts. 

He collapses over her, propping himself on his arms. It’s intense, the way she’s doped him up. A guy could get hooked on that shit. His head hangs from his shoulders, letting a sprig of his red hair trail from his forehead, tickling her cheek.

Rose reaches up and smooths it back. She stares up into his eyes and, thinking better of fixing his mean look, rakes her fingers through his hair.

“Hey, naw,” he reprimands mildly. “Not the hair.” He slides his arms under her middle and draws her onto the bed with him. 

Rose stares at the door of her closet, feeling every inch of her skin alive where this great, warm being is pressed naked against her back.  _ He’s the perfect size to be my big spoon. _ She hums and wriggles against him. His arm slides protectively, still possessively, around her.

She traces her fingers up the length of his limb scrawled with intricate designs. Dates. Wings, vines and knives. The clock from that Salvador Dali painting. There’s a little space on this arm, actually.  _ Maybe someday he’ll like, get my face or birthday or something. _ The thought is immediately followed with a flash of embarrassment.

The sound of a car door slam makes her heart leap into her throat. 

“Oh shit!” She scrambles out of bed.

“Someone coming?” He sits up, blinking like he might have just dozed off.

“My sister’s back from chemo. A friend of ours picked her up.” She stops. “He does  _ not _ want to see you here, believe me!”

“He like your boyfriend or something?” his voice prickles.

“No…” Rose wiggles into her jeans and throws on her uniform polo. “It’s just —you know!”

“You don’t want them to see somebody like me here.” His lips slant.

She gives him a crushed expression.

“Look, I’m sorry!” she says hurriedly. “Paige is really sick today, I need to go help.”

She toes back into her shoes and gasps when she sees how suspicious it looks for a 36F girl to run outside in a Wendy’s uniform over bare tits. 

Her eye catches his face in the mirror, looking at her. 

That secretive, nonchalant mein has given way to something else. Softness lingers about his eyes. A touch of fondness tugs at his lips. He looks taken, almost longing. Her stomach plunges.

_ Oh shit, he like, really likes me. _

“Um.” Rose turns around. “So, I’ll have your 20 grand then?”

He leans back, his expression returned to that unreadable, brassy swagger. 

“Aight.”

“M’kay,” she chirps. “I’m going to go help Paige up the stairs, and you’re going to disappear out the fire escape. Cool?”

His lips twitch.

“Whatever you say, mama.”

She leans over the bed, indenting its ancient springs with her knee. Her hand ghosts over his smooth shoulder and tucks around the back of his neck. Heart beating like butterfly wings, she kisses the ridge of his cheek. Sweetly, chastely.

“Bye.” Her lashes flutter, baby soft.

He catches the back of her head in one hand and pulls her to his lips, kissing her fiercely, lushly. He sops up her little moan and sigh with the thirsty, dry bits of his heart.

“You deserve everything,” he says, the smirk gone from his face.

She doesn’t know what to say.

“See ya.” He tilts his head toward the door.

There are sounds coming from the landing of her apartment. 

Rose frenzies, scrambling out of his arms and slamming her bedroom shut. She straightens her shirt and takes a deep breath.

The front door squeaks open.

“Heyyyy… Paige! Finn!”

Epilogue:

Rose unlocks their mailbox, pulling out another daunting stack of bills.

“Ugh,” she growls, spotting a red printed “LATE NOTICE” on one of the envelopes.

She’s about to lock the box back up when she spots something in the back. Reaching inside, she pulls out a package envelope. No return address.

Her eyes dart around the parking lot. 

She scurries up the stairs and walks straight from the front door of the apartment to the bedroom.

“Uh, hey, Ms. Sneaky, did my magazine come?” Paige calls after her.

“Nope, sorry!” Rose says over her shoulder.

She hustles to her bed and rips open the package.

“Oh my God.”

Inside is a slinky, silk and lace bra, a dark burgundy red. It’s gotta be like, three times as expensive as the one… 

She sucks in a deep breath. Chills run down her spine.

He didn’t come back for the money. She’s had it clean for weeks and he never made contact. It’s eaten at her, kept her awake more nights than it hasn’t.

When she tips the package, out drops a matching cheeky thong, an ambitious little bit of lace and daring. Her cheeks burn. Her clit stings with the idea that he saw those lacy undergarments and thought of her. He touched them, these naughty things she holds in her hands.

It feels almost gluttonous when she looks in the envelope again, but the folded scrap of paper makes her pulse reel twice as hard as the lingerie.

_ Wear this tomorrow. 4:30. _

That’s all it says, but his final gift is a key taped to the paper. Attached to the keyring is the rubber logo of a storage unit facility addressed in South Tacoma. The key’s little teeth are bumpy under her fingers. When she pops the address into her phone, Google Maps says it's 10 minutes away.

No hurt in checking this out a day early.

“I’m going out, Paige, be right back!” she brisks across the apartment again.

“God, all this coming and going, Rose!” Paige chides her. “I feel like you’re running a drug cartel!”

“Ha! You’re hilarious!”

“Be back before the game.” The pitch of Paige’s voice escalates into a teasing trill. “Wouldn’t wanna miss Russel Wilson!”

+++

The fluorescent lit hallway is so bare, it fills Rose with a creeped-out chill.

334, 345…

She stops at 346.

The lock snaps and ugly bright green hood rolls up.

_ Holy mother… _

Her insides constrict. This cannot be real.

It’s like, eight pallets of cash in here stacked as high as her waist.  _ Pallets. _

“Couldn’t decide whether to take you on in the finance department, as we say.” A bassy voice comes up softly behind her. “Or whether to keep you for myself.”

She turns around.

He’s leaning against the frame of the storage unit. Black jeans, black Chucks, black button up shirt, fire hair, stormy eyes. 

Her heart leaps.

“Thought I’d let you decide.”

“You said to meet you here tomorrow.” She flushes, embarrassed. His eyes rake over her like he knows underneath her clothes she’s hiding red silk, daring lace. 

“Come on, mama.” He prowls toward her, everything about him polished, well-oiled,  _ smooth _ . “We both know you’re not in this just to take care of people.”

With touch like the breath of a whisper, he tucks a hair behind her ear.

“You’re addicted to the thrill.”

Rose looks up at him, big dark eyes gleaming.

“Yeah,” she sighs, sinking into him.

His lips quirk.

“Yeah, you want to work with me?” he purrs. “Yeah, you want to be with me?” His blue whorled fingers slide up her neck to her cheek. “Or yeah, you’re addicted?”

“Mhmm.” She nods. “Yeah.” Her face inches closer to his, lips parted, breath short.

“All of that,” she says.

They kiss.


	2. Body on Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guess what it’s time for?
> 
> That’s right. Sexy, snackable Star Wars boys with tats.
> 
> Thanks to [@birchwoods01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birchwoods01/pseuds/Brit%20Hux-Tico) and [@CelestialMess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestial_Mess1/works) for editing this chapter. 
> 
> CelestialMess has blessed us this day with some luscious, delightful art with sensual NSFW moments from Chapter 1. I’m floored by Celeste’s capturing of Hux’s tats and the physicality of the scenes. Amazing. [Click the link to enjoy!](https://twitter.com/celestialmess1/status/1364788699494514693?s=21)

A throbbing bass pulses through Rose. She’s standing on the edge of the club, clutching a watery whiskey sour, her face illuminated by the glowing screen of her cracked iPhone 6.

Her blue text bubble fills the frame. It’s an oversized paragraph stuffed with “ _ I just thinks” _ and “ _ I feel like I can’ts” and  _ “ _ could we please just.” _

No reply.

For twelve hours. 

Not even a single trio of stupid dots saying he’s even started to text back. 

She would know. She’s been staring at it that long. __

_ I want a long life, a legendary one, _

_ I want a quick death, and a easy one, _

_ I want a pretty girl, and an honest one,  _

_ I want this drink, and another one. _

Red-lit fog gasses across the club. The center of the low-ceiling room seethes with bodies moving in the dark like a mythologic pit of Hades. Heads bobbing, arms waving, hips swaying, asses twerking, and tits bouncing in one blurry swarm. 

Rose doesn’t notice. She squints at her phone. Frowns.

At the top of her screen, his contact just says “General.” 

Paige had made fun of it weeks ago.

“Who’s ‘General?” she asked through a mouth full of  mì xào giòn.

“Um, wow! Snoopy much?” Rose had snatched her phone from the coffee table and shoved it possessively into her pocket. The hair on her arms stood up with dread. “It’s just my boss, ok?”

“Jesus, sorry for caring about your life! You’re so secretive lately!” Paige’s nose wrinkled. 

Irritation fading, Rose’s heart couldn’t help but squeeze; it had been months since her sister felt well enough to be spicy with her. A nosy sister is a healthy sister, she had to admit.

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I’m just really stressed about this new job. I’ve never been an office manager before, and the company has…”  _ A lot of cash to wash. _ “...A lot of clients. You know? Cars to fix, parts to order, people to bill. Just a ton of loose ends flying around all the time.”  _ Perfect for padding a dollar here and there. _

“I get it, Rose.” Paige softened. “It’s not fair for me to dog you when you’ve been taking care of me.”

Rose sank down on the couch next to her sister.

“Don’t think about it like that. When mom was sick, everything was all on you at the end.”

“It’s just… are you sure about this General guy? He sounds even weirder than your Wendy’s manager.”

Heat flashed in Rose’s cheeks.

“Uh… he’s fine.”  _ Damn fine.  _ “Just, really demanding, that’s all.”

“Your boss should leave you alone after hours, Rose.”

“Right.” Rose shrugged. 

She swiped open her screen and looked at her new message.

_ Keep thinking about your wet ass pussy on the hood of that red Benz. Tits out for me.  _

Rose gasped. Her face reddened, how fucking dare he send such filth when she’s with Paige! He knows she wants to keep this seperate!

A second text came in.

_ I’m gonna push you onto your back every time a red luxury car comes in. You think about that, mama. I want your pussy wet as fuck every time one of those cars pulls into the garage. Like a dog trained to a bell. _

Her pulse stuttered. Her sore little snatch, still livid as the hood of that Benz from his punishing attentions, squeezed and dripped with desire for him. Her stomach still ached with how hard he’d used her. Suddenly, that calm, sated feeling he’d left her with was replaced with hot, twisting bother curling around her clit. 

_ What the actual fuck! Why does he torture me?! _

“Everything ok, Rose?” 

“Yep,” she clipped, perspiration forming on her upper lip. “Just fine and dandy!”  _ Omg, dandy? _

She can’t keep this up; this two-faced life. Rose is too close to her sister to carry on a deadly, felonious charade. Especially with a smooth-talking monster who makes her unravel into a needy, throbbing pool of desperation at the mere mention of a car.

_ Bitches callin' my phone like I'm locked up, nonstop, _

_ From the plane to the fuckin' helicopter, yeah, _

_ Cops pullin' up like I'm givin' drugs out, nah, nah, _

_ I'm a popstar, not a doctor. _

“Oh my God!” Rose says out loud, though her voice is barely a murmur above the droning club music. 

Three little dots appear under her last text. Finally, a response! She wonders how he will reply to her essay about why she can’t keep doing this. Why she needs to like, get some more clarity from him or she’s gonna have to go back to Wendy’s. She can’t take the pressure anymore. 

The dots vanish.

She waits with bated breath.

“Hey, there you are!” 

Finn slips through the crowd of heaving bodies and stands at her side.

“You doing ok, Rose?” he sidles up to her, a few inches closer than pure platonicness would allow.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Rose eases back.

“Come dance with us?” he pleads. “I know you’re feeling stressed about your new job.”

Poe appears behind Finn with Rey, Kaydel and Paige in tow. They’re a glittering, painted bouquet of raucous laughter, holding handfuls of green shots that glow unappetizingly in the fluorescent light.

“Who’s so important, Lady Textalot?” Poe teases, “We’re here to celebrate!”

“Yeah!” Rey cheers, bumping Paige with her silver-sequined booty. “Good news from the doc! Heyo!”

Paige laughs with the first real relief Rose has heard in her sister’s voice for over a year. Guilt jabs at her stomach; of course this should be Paige’s night. Rose slips her phone into her little handbag.

“Okay, are we ready?” Poe says over the music, his tone matching the room’s feverish energy.

Kaydel gives Rose two shots and a coy wink.

“Alright, here’s to our little fighter, Paige Tico!” Poe shouts.

“Hell yeah!”

“Go baby!”

Rose glances down at the iridescent green liquid in her shot glasses. More than anything, she wants to check her phone. 

_ See this is the problem, _ she thinks, _ he doesn’t get to take me from my friends. _

“Scared of downing two at once, Rose?” Finn elbows her gently.

_ Fuck it. _

“Ha!” She grins saucily. “You guys better be scared of Shwasted Rose!”

Rose squeals and tosses back both shot glasses to the gleeful noises of the others. 

The room swirls with the warm sounds of her friends’ laughter, but to Rose, they’re distant and echoey. Finn slaps Rey on the back like she’s choked on her shot, Kaydel has Paige’s hands knotted up as they dance with tipsy snorts and giggles. The lights pulse around them, dizzying and fragmented.

“Come on!” Poe fades back into the tangle of sweaty bodies. He waves for the group to follow. 

“Just a sec!” Rose sets her handbag on one of the tall chairs encircling tables at the edge of the room. For a moment, her hand slides into the purse and closes around her phone.

_ No.  _ She resists.

[ A familiar intro ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5J5GL8ZON4) s hifts the energy in the club. Calls and whoops echo off the low ceiling, long purple beams flash in time with the restless chords. The rhythm builds with anticipation.

In the dark, a hand clutches her elbow.

“You love this song, come on!” Finn pulls her into the throbbing labyrinth of dancers.

_ Babe, don’t make a sound,  _

_ 2am love gotta keep it down, _

_ Don't wait around for a signal now, _

_ Gimme some verbs I ain't talkin' nouns, _

They’re in the center of the throng with barely enough room to move. Rose smells tequila breath and Victoria’s Secret perfume. The shots are starting to hit her bloodstream and the beat thuds at the base of her spine. This is ok. She can get into it.

Poe is doing some crazy move that has the girls shrieking and cawing. Rose dances slightly off to the side with Finn. She holds her whiskey sour aloft, rolling her hips to the rhythm; her long, glossy hair splashes against her shoulders.

Finn gets closer.

His expression bleeds with a kind of affection that makes her uncomfortable; the kind that demands a response. He wears on his face the memory of that night she impulsively kissed him. That was right after Paige’s cancer came back. 

Her heart sinks.  _ For real? Another dude acting like he owns me? _

Rose closes her eyes and lets go. Her drink sloshes, her movements loosen and her head rocks with the beat.

_ Hell nah, been waitin' too long,  _

_ Hell nah, I want that crew love,  _

The pressure builds, drums double with tension like a string ready to snap; Rose’s pent up anxieties shift and rattle in her chest. She pumps her ass and loses herself in the flashing strobe. Her eyes drift close, her heart pounds; sweat gleams on her arms.

The music tips into the chorus like a great rushing release and the crowd frenzies.

That’s when Rose feels him.

And it’s not Finn.

He slides his hand up the sleek fabric of her bodycon dress and grips her waist. It’s an anchor, holding her steady as her friends fade away with the jumping, swirling swarm of people.

She leans back against the hard plank of a masculine body. His heart soft-kicks against her shoulder blade. 

He’s not dancing like everyone else. He’s casual, easy, stroking his hips against her round cheeks to the beat. Coaxing her, tempting her under the vague guise of moving with the music. A big hand gathers up her silky hair and pours it over one shoulder and his lips trace her exposed collar bone up to her neck. 

_ Body on my, losin' all my innocence, yeah, _

_ Body on my, grindin' on my innocence, yeah, _

_ Body on my, losin' all my innocence, yeah, _

_ Body on my, grindin' on my innocence, yeah. _

Her breath wrings out and her traitorous ass rolls against him, clenching around the stiff rod jutting from his jeans. Rose’s heartbeat flails.  _ He’s hard ...already! _

Tenderly, his possessive touch roams her in the dark. One hand fans across her belly, pulling her deeper into him as he stirs his mean length against the springy cleft of fabric held taut by her dress. He moves his thumb just slightly enough to graze the underside of her breast, so beautifully framed in this tight little garment.  _ She’s perfect, _ he smiles to himself.

“You wore red for me, mama.” His bassy voice washes over her like another shot of liquor. His breath whispers feather-light on her cheekbone, heightening every sense in her body.

“I’m out with my friends!” she growls back.

His low, soft laugh ignites anger like gasoline in her stomach but she’s still grinding desperately against him.

She throws that thick ass back, bouncing on his dick. Her juicy flesh claps on him with that delicious give that’s gonna make him jack if he ain’t careful. He paces himself. Soon enough he’ll split that peach open with his cock and feel her juices run down her legs. 

Rose turns around and straddles his leg, pushing the hem of her dress precariously high. Her small arms circle his neck, his tatted angel wings braced to carry her into the sun.

“I’m not here to dance with you!” she hisses.

He looks down into her scowling face; lips slanting imperiously, green eyes half-lidded with cocky ease. A perfect, bad-boy scruff of red hair peeks rakishly from the snapback of his backwards Yankees hat. His body rolls against her, hips nudging her subtly, teasingly. Rose lets out a moan, the crotch of her panties slip soakingly. She’s staining his thigh with a humiliating pool of slick.

“You’re doing one hell of a job not dancing with me,” he whispers, lips brushing her forehead. The friction of him against her revs her clit from stinging bother to burning need.

Rose casts a wary glance around the room. 

Blue-lit fog fills the narrow spaces between her, this man and the shifting, dark silhouettes of the other dancers. Changing beams of light illuminate little fragments of the crowd: a random elbow, a hand, the side of a face.

No one is looking at them.

Her eyes find his.  _ Damn those fucking gorgeous green eyes. _

“You’re ruining my life!” Rose snarls in his ear.

Then she slides her hot little seam up and down his leg in earnest.  _ Oh my god, what am I doing? _

Tinder strikes where she rubs against him. Her core ignites; flames lick around the edge of her consciousness. Arousal crackles in the base of her stomach, building quickly.

“That’s it,” he hums, dark and silken, “I’ve already ruined you, angel. You won’t go back to that shit life after you’ve tasted heaven.”

Rose moans.  _ Ugh, how do I know he’s right? _

His purr deepens to a growl and he snatches a clump of her hair, tugging her head to one side like he’s going to take a bite out of her.

“Oh!” she gasps. 

“Hmmm,” he breathes with his lips on her neck. He draws in a sharp breath, whisking cool air all shivery and tingly over her sensitive skin. The tenderness of his kiss surprises her. “You taste perfect,” he hums.

Pleasure drops into her stomach and fizzes to the tips of her fingers and toes.  _ How does he always unravel me like this? _

She pants, clinging to fistfuls of his bomber jacket.

“So eager,” he whispers, catching the soft petal of her earlobe between his teeth. Oh god, his gentle lips are going to make her heart stop. If he keeps mouthing that soft spot behind her ear, she’s going to… to…

“Hold up, mama.” He pulls his face away from her. “I ain’t letting you cum until I have your full attention.”

Frustration jabs at Rose’s stomach. 

She can’t keep letting him control her like this! What right does he have to saddle her with an impossible shitload of tasks at work, and then occupy her every waking thought until she falls asleep and dreams about him?

It’s just not fair.

Rose’s pulse pounds hot and tingling in her clit. She’s had enough of his bullshit, and not nearly enough of his gorgeous body.

_ He’s not the only one who can take what he wants. _

Bucking her hips, she grinds harder against him.

“Hey!” he growls.

But she’s too far gone.

“Hnggg….!!!”

Brilliance bursts from the base of her stomach and flashes to the edges of her body. She shudders. Warm, sparkling heat pours into her veins and ripples slowly back to her center.

When Rose opens her eyes, he’s glaring down at her with his lips pressed into a thin line.

But she’s not fooled.

Behind that icy stare gleams a wild spark of delight. The smallest twitch in the corner of his mouth tells her that perhaps she’s underestimated her own power.

Still panting with victory, Rose snarls up at him, tipping her chin definitely.

“I’m in charge now,” she announces. “I’m tired of you distracting me at work and then giving me zero chance to focus when I’m at home! I’m done with you popping in and out when you feel like it and expecting me to b-bend over every time you’re hard!”

Moisture pricks in the corners of Rose’s eyes. Her vision prisms.

“I’m nervous and stressed all the time! I… I’m not cut out for this life!” Her voice catches. “And it’s only harder with you pushing me around!”

His expression softens.

“Mama,” he murmurs, sliding a big hand around the back of her neck. Fondness twists in the slant of his mouth. “You’ve always been in charge.”

“N-not when I’m buried in all your money-laundering bullshit!” Rose angrily tightens her grip on his jacket. “And I can’t even tell my sister about what I’m going through!”

She blinks back tears. Damn it, she won’t cry. Not now.

“Hey,” he croons, smoothing her shoulders with gentle strokes, so tender they break her heart. “You ain’t alone, angel girl.”

The song changes and the crowd frenzies with excitement; a drilling bass rattles the floor under them, but Rose can’t feel it.

She can only feel his fingers notched under her chin, his steadying grip around her waist pulling her closer. Through his long, languid copper lashes he looks down into her face with the kind of adoration that’s worth a thousand headaches and conflicted morals. She wants to let him be the center of her world. Those hands on her body could have everything, if she let him.

His gaze rests on her lips.

“You’re my queen,” he rumbles.

He leans in to kiss her.

_ I might be his queen, but I should be the center of his world, _ Rose thinks.

“Mmmm, no.” She leans away. “I’m going dancing with my friends.”

She slides off his leg and straightens her dress. With a stiffening of her spine and regal toss of her hair, she starts to flounce away.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll send you some pics later,” she says haughtily.

His face barely reacts, but a hint of surprise flashes in his eyes.

“Hell nah,” he growls. “Been waiting too long.”

He lunges for Rose’s hand but she fades backward, letting the swirl of dancing bodies swallow her up.

Heart thudding in her ears, Rose threads her way through the stumbling, jumping bodies until the glitter of silver sequins catches her eye.

Her friends cluster back at the table with another round of drinks. There’s a whiskey ginger waiting for her on the black plastic tray. Her friends know her too well.

“Rose!” Rey slurs, “There you are!” She leans down and bumps her nose against Rose’s forehead. “Guess what? A sooooper hot tall guy is getting me a drink!”

“Yeah? Well don’t let him ask too much of you,” Rose says cryptically. She grabs her drink and takes a glum slurp.

“Don’t worry,” Kaydel slams her shot glass on the plastic surface of the cafe table with a loud clack. “Nobody’s letting pants get in somebody’s Rey…”

Paige snorts into her drink.

“Yeah, especially not that guy.” Finn glowers, his speech sounding starkly sober.

“Where’s Poe?” Rose asks.

“Oooh he found somebody…” Paige coos.

“That was quick!”

“Not really,” Finn says suspiciously, “Where were you, Rose? You were gone for a while.”

“Yeah,” Kaydel chimes in with even sloppier diction. “We sorta thought you found some sexy tall guy of your oooown.”

“What?” Rose recoils.

“Don’t be shy, Ro-ro!” Rey jabs.

“Yeah, gettin’ freaky with randos isn’t a crime!” Kaydel adds with a tremendous belch.

“You were dancing with somebody?” Finn sounds betrayed.

Heat swamps Rose’s face; she busies her mouth with a long drag on her straw. Whiskey hits her veins.  _ Shit, what did they see? _

“Yeah, uh, just a cute rando!” she offers weakly.

“Well? Spill about him! Did you get his number?” Paige prompts, her voice piqued with excitement.

Her sister’s innocent support drives a dagger of guilt into Rose’s chest.

“Um, mmhm, I have his number,” she says, feeling better about at least telling a half-truth.

“Oh,” Finn quirks his head, “I thought you left your phone in your bag.”

“I mean… I gave him mine!” Rose stutters. “But I probably have his number now, cuz he probably already texted me... you know how clingy guys are.”

“Totally.”

“Good for you!”

“Uhuh,” Finn says, giving Rose a scrutinizing look.

“Come on, let’s dance!” Rose snatched up her sister’s hand.

“Whoa, Ro, I’m not finished with my...!”

“You love Nicki Minaj, let’s go!”

When Rose drags Paige onto the dance floor, her sister pulls her in closer. That open, sincere face that Rose knows better than her own hovers two inches from her.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Paige asks.

Her gaze searches Rose’s eyes.

Rose nods, speechless.

“This doesn’t have to be like when Mom was sick, when she tried to take care of everything and didn’t tell us anything.”

“We were kids, Pae…”

“Well we’re not kids anymore.” Paige’s lips bunch tensely. Her brows knit, just like their mother’s used to. “You can’t keep shutting me out, Rose.”

Shame floods Rose’s stomach, but where could she possibly start? With the gas station heist or the fact that she runs an auto shop that’s a front for money laundering? When does she add the part about boning a gorgeous, domineering, counterfeiter thug lord who’s also her boss? 

“Okay,” Rose squeaks. “I’ll tell you the truth.”

Her sister clutches her hands; always her safe place, forever her ride-or-die. Maybe they weren’t taught to say “I love you” with a bunch of mushy words, but they say it by clinging to one another.

“I met somebody!” Rose blurts.

Paige visibly sags with relief.

“I know, dummy.”

“What?!”

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed the blushing and mooning, all the late night texting and giggling from your side of the bedroom.” Paige lists off her fingers. “For months you’ve been wearing your nicer underwear, checking yourself out in the mirror all the time and  _ working late _ ?”

Rose’s face goes slack with shock; a small gurgling noise issues from the back of her throat.

“I’m sick, not stupid,” Paige scoffs. “I’m glad it’s just a boy, I seriously thought you were selling your body for cash, based on how much dough you’ve been bringing in lately.”

_ Well… _

“Listen, Pae,” Rose gulps. “There’s more about this guy that I should tell you.”

Not two feet away, a familiar voice booms with surprising bassiness, especially since the entire room already rattles with subsonic waves as it is.

Rose nearly drops her whiskey ginger. She looks up, startled.

“Yo, this all you want, girl?” A silhouette Rose recognizes hovers over Rey, the tiny, pink umbrella-ed drink in his enormous hands looking ridiculous until he places it delicately in Rey’s grasp. “Why don’t we go find a place to sit down,” he suggests, leaning authoritatively into Rey’s space. “Join me.”

A green-lit fog wreathes the man’s sharp features, his hawk nose and piercing eyes glow as sinister as a hellhound. Bulky muscles glide smoothly under his designer windbreaker; he’s a lithe behemoth in expensive joggers, blinged-out diamond studs and top-of-the-line Air Jordans.

Rose has only seen this man a few times, but each visit to the auto shop ended with crashing sounds from the back office and a cascade of upturned files and papernotes. After this brooding colossus stormed out with shouts and curses, her General would slink into the dingy staff bathroom, his face twisted into a bristling snarl, his perfect bronze hair mussed like a ruffled badger. 

Once, after a particularly noisy altercation, Rose drifted into the back office with a conciliatory Pepsi, only to find her street king on his knees, picking up crumpled 20s and 50s. Trails of bright crimson snaked from a mean gash in his cheek, leaving thick, dark droplets on the floor.

“What the hell?!” Rose cried. She dropped to the floor and reached for his face. “I’ll kill him!”

“Easy, mama.” Her man’s firm grasp locked around her wrist before she could touch the cruel mark on him. “We all got our whack-ass bosses, you feel me?”

Her anger melted as he brought the inside of her wrist to his mouth. Letting his eyes drift closed, he kissed her paper-thin skin. 

His possessive strength circled her small body. Through the steadiness in his strong arms and the gentle hand covering the small of her back, he told her that he’s big enough to hold his boss’s anger. Big enough to hold a paperhanging operation, the pressures of rival gangs and cops and feds —and still hold a metric fuckton of savage love in that brutal chest just for her. 

His lips found hers and Rose melted. His kiss was like afternoon sun on the asphalt, like Pepsi crackling syrupy sweet in the back of her mouth, like good days.

_ Tell me I'm not my fears, my limitations, _

_ I disappear, if you let me, _

_ Feeling like (on your own,) _

_ Feeling like Jericho, _

_ Feeling like Job when he lost his shit, _

_ Gotta hold my own, my cross to bear alone, _

Music and memory swirls around Rose like a daydream. Maybe, amid the tumult of her new position, she had forgotten all the silent, inconspicuous ways her man loved her.

She watches Rey and the mysterious, dark-haired kingpin wander toward the edge of the club.

“Do you know that guy?” Paige asks, sounding suspicious again.

“Yeah, he owns the company I work for…” Rose frowns. “...I think?”

“He looks like a hooligan,” Paige says, her voice shaded with a scowl. “Look at those prison tats!”

Rose winces. “About that—”

“Rey needs to be more careful around guys!” Paige says, nipping Rose’s confession in the bud. 

Shame burns Rose’s cheeks. 

_ Well I guess she’s not meeting my tatted monster anytime soon. _

She watches the broad-shouldered man ease closer to Rey. He takes a strand of her hair between his fingertips and Rey blushes, smiling coquettishly into her drink.

Frustration flashes in Rose’s veins like a jolt of electricity. Despite how much she wants her sister not to judge appearances, she knows  _ this guy _ is bad news. And now he’s hitting on her friend?

_ No fucking way. _

Rose grips her drink and storms a little wobbly over toward Rey and the brooding tall guy.

“Who’s this, Rey?” she asks in a caustic voice, barely hiding her tipsy lilt. She leans against Rey’s chair and flashes the man a nasty frown. 

“Rose!” Rey sounds even more drunk than before. “This is Kylo and he owns a car from the old movies… what did you say it was called?”

“A 1975 Cadillac ElDorado,” he says, his impossibly deep voice resonating like a drum.

“Yes!” Rey’s eyes widen, her interest in classic cars clearly manufactured by the strong drink in her hand.

Rose’s adult beverage, on the other hand, is making her more eager to express her distaste. However irrational it is, she feels added frustration toward this man for drawing out Paige’s wariness of hood boys.

“Wow, you’re really showing off, huh?” Rose says in a snarky tone. “What are you going to impress her with next, your fancy machine guns?”

“Do I know you?” Kylo intones, not yet exerting enough effort to sound truly hostile. Indignation curdles in Rose’s stomach: she’s sure he’s seen her in the shop.

“You probably wouldn’t remember a lowly underling like me,” she snorts. She keeps her eyes locked with the man and slurps her straw so it gurgles obnoxiously in the bottom of her empty cup.

“You her girlfriend or something?” he asks with amusement.

“Nope.” Rose pops the ‘p’. “Just trying to make sure my friends go home with nice guys instead of taking out the trash.”

“Ha,” Rey giggles drunkenly. “Quite the burn, Rose.”

Kylo tips his head back, a big lipped smile revealing the delicate outline of gold etched around his teeth. Recognition flickers in his dark eyes.

“Oh, that’s right,” he says. “You’re Hux’s girl.”

“Hux?” the voice comes from Rose’s right: it’s Paige.

Fear plunges in Rose’s stomach.

“Who’s Hux?” Paige repeats.

Rose gawks, words tangled in her mouth.

“These your friends?” Kylo smiles cruelly. “And they don’t know ‘bout your pissy old General?”

“Wait, you know Kylo, Rose?” Rey slurs.

“I wish I didn’t!” Rose snarls through her teeth. “How about you fuck off and leave this nice girl alone?”

Kylo laughs, low and vicious.

“Yo, you should know not to shit where you eat, little girl,” he says. “Hux didn’t teach you that?”

Darkness clouds around his features like a gathering storm. Rose’s innards quake, but she stiffens her quivering lip.

“I’ve seen the way you treat him!” she bites back. 

Kylo’s eyes narrow. Rose’s stomach pitches but she doesn’t waver.

_ Shit, I’m really stepping in it now. _

“I admit,” she continues, “I don’t know how all this works, with… uh…  _ the business _ . But you can’t disrespect my boyfriend and expect me to be ok with you hitting on my friend!”

“Boyfriend?” Paige breathes.

When Kylo gets up out of his chair toward Rose, a primal fear lights up inside the deep, Mesolithic recesses of her brain. His bulky form towers over her, lording over her the ancientness of his office. He doesn’t need a crown, anyone can see his status in the regal bearing of his shoulders, the casual loftiness of his stance, the superiority of his disdainful smirk.

_ This is the king.  _ It hits her in full, terrifying force.  _ Nobody is bad to the king.  _

With horror, Rose realizes her insubordination is nothing short of an act of war.

Kylo’s lips bend downward with threatening malice. Frightening shadows fall across his angled face, lit thinly by the dim can lights. He’s not like a Louis XIV fancy king, she senses. He’s more like Gengis Khan.

She swallows thickly.

“I’m thinking a bitch with no respect shouldn’t be handling my shit,” Kylo says slowly.

“I get that…” Rose pivots, though she won’t drop her defiant scowl.

“Nah, girl.” He leans closer to her. “You in too deep to be fuckin’ around, yo. What, you think I’m just gonna let you touch my paper after this?”

“Haha,” Rey giggles. “He’s talking about money!”

“Shut up, Rey!” Paige elbows her friend, vibrating with shock.

Kylo’s mouth curls into a snarl. He’s inches from Rose; his dark mahogany, vetiver smell surrounds her like a pungent, embalming doom.

“Tell me,” he seethes. “Why should I let you keep walking the streets after you’ve seen the inside of my business?”

Rose’s vision pixelates.

“I…” she chokes. “I… just…”

A firm hand clamps down on her shoulder.

Paige gasps.

“She’s alright, Ren,” a smooth tiger purr resonates from the tall man beside her.

Like gliding across glassy water, Rose finds herself sliding out of harm’s way, displaced by his body before she knows what’s happening. He gently eases her out of the forceful spotlight of Kylo’s wrath as casually as if he had moved her out of the sun on a hot day. 

Rose stands on the other side of him now, and she’s vaguely conscious of her sister and friend behind her, whispering in ragged tones.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Who is this guy?”

Her man is a shoulders-back, pillar of calm.

“Yo, you think you can let your bitch do whatever she wants?” Kylo snarls into Hux’s face.

“Nah, she ain’t like that,” Hux answers. 

“I don’t take disrespect!” Kylo moves in on Hux with a burst of anger. He hovers furiously over the General’s narrow frame. Hux doesn’t blink, he stands grounded like a rooted tree. 

Their confrontation is many millennia old, like two stags meeting in a clearing or two lions circling one another, jaws bared. Kylo’s nostrils flare, Hux’s jaw flexes: they glare at each other with animal bitterness. Rose can almost taste their maleness diffusing in the air like musky, rival creatures in rut.

“No disrespect.” Hux puts a hand up. “You know the girls from this block, so you don’t gotta act surprised when they get all diva and shit.”

_ Excuse me! _ Rose frowns.

“Hey, Rose!” Paige grabs her sister’s elbow.

When Rose pivots around, her friends are gathered a few yards away, holding their coats and bags. They watch the unfolding spectacle with their eyes wide, their features carved with alarm.

“Come on!” Kaydel motions to the sisters and Paige hustles toward them, snatching up her coat from Poe.

“Let’s go, Rose!” Finn hisses.

But Rose’s body won’t move.

The pitch of Kylo’s anger escalates and Hux swallows it, sucking up the burning beams of rage like a black hole. Like a gorgeous, steely-eyed dark vacuum, devoid of light. 

She can’t leave him.

“You care more about getting some pussy than repping your boys,” Kylo blusters, “I can see about some re-education, you like that? You down to get locked up, how about all day, yeah?”

“You got one hell of an operation to manage if you have me booked, Ren,” he deflects.

“Nah, fuckin’ Pryde would like nothing more than taking Hilltop, too. You’re irrelevant, bitch.”

Hux shrugs.

Guilt and awe bloom in Rose’s chest.

_ How nonchalantly he falls on his sword for me. _

“She’s my girl, Ren,” Hux replies simply. “Ain’t no rat, either. She’s for real. Moves paper faster than your fuckin’ Kights and she keeps her books tight.”

Kylo starts a retort, but ends up shutting his mouth. His chest rattles like a stalled engine.

“You teach your bitch to stay in line or you’re gettin’ picked up,” he snaps, prodding Hux’s chest. “With a rap sheet like yours, one trip downtown and you ain’t getting out ‘cept the back door parole!” 

“She’ll learn her lesson,” Hux says with quiet menace, sending a chill through Rose.

“Good.” Kylo sinks back into his chair. 

As the kingpin’s hackles lower, an entourage Rose hadn’t previously noticed closes around him.

A haughty-eyed woman with shiny hair and purple lipstick slides onto Kylo’s lap and looks Rose up and down with reproach. Have the bulky guys in black, baggy clothes been lurking around Kylo this whole time? 

Scanning the crowded room, Rose realizes that this whole club is filled with people who could be on the First Order rolls. Why did she ever think she could keep anything separate in South Tacoma?

Her gaze lands on Paige, who looks about ready to bite Rose’s head off.

_ This is bad. _

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Hux murmurs. His protective grasp closes around her elbow and leads them down a black-painted hall toward the back exit. 

Paige storms up to them, blocking the door.

“Um, hey.” She blinks at the General, looking entirely unsure what to make of him. She turns to her sister with a broken expression etched into her face. “Rose, are you selling drugs?”

“No!” Rose replies. “Of course not!”

Paige hisses, “I knew something was off, I knew it!”

“Look, it’s not what you think,” Rose stammers. “Give me a chance to explain!”

“I’m afraid this will have to wait, ladies.” 

Hux tightens his grip around Rose’s elbow and reels her towards him. 

“Your sister and I have some unfinished business,” he announces to Paige. His tone is firm, non-negotiable. The quiet authority of his words fall like a judge’s gavel. 

Paige steps backward: submitting, but furious.

Rose starts to object, but when she opens her mouth, the General drops a stern warning in his liquid-smooth voice.

“Save it,” he orders. “You two can kiss and make up later.”

“We’re leaving,” Paige interjects, eyes flashing with indignation.

“You are,” Hux states. He nods patiently at the dim, flickering neon: EXIT.

Rose knows her sister would never go without her.

“Paige, it’s ok,” she says. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Dissatisfaction weaves throughout Paige’s brow scrunches, her lip twitches and her nostril flares. Finally, she relents.

“Finn and I will be right outside this door,” she says through gritted teeth.

Her look of betrayal lances through Rose’s chest. 

When Paige closes the exit behind her with one last chilling glance, Rose whirls around, reverberating with anger and hurt. A sob curls around her throat; the edges of her vision warp and blister with rage.

“What in the name of…” she cries, “Why the fuck....?”

The General clamps a vise-like grip around her wrist.

“Quiet,” he says softly. It’s not a request. 

His flickering green eyes simmer with terrifying power and his lips curl with brutal intent. 

Every hair on Rose’s body stands on end; she knows she’s pushed past the steel boundaries of his honor code. They’re now deep into dangerous territory. 

He towers over her, looking like he might rip her to shreds.

Yanking her arm, Hux backs up to the black door labelled: LADIES and pulls them inside. A modern light fixture pours cool, moody light over a wooden sink base and a large, framed poster of Marilyn Monroe smirks lasciviously down at them. He twists the lock closed and spins around in one fierce motion. 

“You have no idea what you just cost me,” he fumes, pulling her toward him. Their sharp, ragged breathing echoes off the sleek, black tile.

Rose’s pulse flails wildly, but still, she’s not going to bend over and take whatever he has in mind.

“I’m tired of being quiet!” Rose jerks her hand away. “You don’t get to just come in and out of my life as you please, wreaking havoc on my reputation and relationships!” she yells. “I have people  _ expecting _ things from me!” 

A smirk spreads across his lips, not the kind that’s amused. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He tips his chin up. Vicious green glitters down at her with predatory barbarism.

“And what do I get, huh?” The swell of his deep voice fills the tiled room. “I think it’s you who’s tryna bounce in and out, mama. Two lives; two different Roses? Damn. I don’t know how you keep it all straight.”

Rose’s lip trembles with fury; she can’t believe he would criticize how she’s handling her impossible life.  _ What the actual fuck, asshole! _

“Well, you know what?” She thrusts her little body into his personal space, shaking with rage. “You’re the one who’s making this too hard for me.” With an accusing finger, she prods his chest as if to nail her reproach to his heart.

Her reprimands bounce off his corded pecs like her finger. He doesn’t budge. Those shoulders which,  _ she knows _ , carry the world, hold her frustrations, too. 

A tender hand closes around her blaming one and he pulls her wrist to his mouth, grazing with his teeth her sensitive ski n . His lips, soft as velour, suckle with agonizing sweetness on the delicate flesh covering her fluttering pulse.

“You wanna put the blame on me?” His eyes go dark. “You tired of being quiet?”

Rose blinks rapidly, stunned.

“Fine by me,” he says, smoldering like a great plume of velvet smoke. “You can scream as loud as you want.”

With a shove, he pins her against the wooden sink base, trapping her between two vise-like arms that grip the counter.

_ Oh, shit.  _

She’s leaning back against the edge of the sink, captured within the span of his lithe, wiry structure. He hangs his head down over her, their faces close enough to touch. 

Her heartbeat hammers in her throat as he grinds against her with his thick package. His cock fills the front of his faded jeans with the throbbing need to be inside her.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he provokes.

Rose trembles, she knows he’ll let go if she asks.  _ I’m still mad at you. _

“No,” she quivers.

With a scorching kiss, he draws out her lip caught between her teeth like he wants to unravel the case she’s mounted against him. Rose responds with a hot, surging plunge of her tongue: she’ll tell him exactly how angry he makes her.

She claws at his shoulders while she ravages his mouth. She scrapes red furrows into his neck and drags her nails down his jacket with a savage s _ sssht _ .

“Hng!” He pulls back and seizes her hands in his big paw, holding them over her head. A silken string of spit trails from their mouths where they part. 

“You’ve been one entitled bitch tonight, you know that?” he hisses. “But you’re gonna listen now, you hear me?”

She struggles under him. With a jerk of her hips, she rams her pelvic bone into his sensitive sac. He growls like an injured animal but he doesn’t let her go.

He yanks on her wrists, hauling her upward and tugging the fat curves of her ass over the lip of the counter. She’s sitting on the edge of the sink now, her knees parted around his waist and her dress riding precariously up her thighs. 

The coolness of the porcelain sink kisses the pulsing lips of her hot, needy clutch. Humiliatingly, her pussy drools a desperate dribble down toward the drain.

There’s no resisting him as he pins her wrists against the mirror with one hand and gropes her with the other. He crushes her breast in his grasp, snatching fists full of her soft edges like each curve belongs to him.

A wicked gleam sparkles in his eye and her belly flutters. Smirking all the while, he reaches into the v neck of her dress and pushes back each side of the ribbed material until her breasts bounce free of their built-in cups. 

Bending down, he catches her nipple in his mouth and sucks  _ hard. _ He swallows her sensitive bud and then turns to the other, pinching her nipple between his tongue and upper teeth until she cries out.

Rose writhes and bucks, rubbing her dripping seam against the edge of the sink. Her lover closes his fist around the side of her dress, yanking on the thin fabric until a sharp tearing sound fills the bathroom. Her dress splits open, baring the golden plane of her belly to him.

Rose gasps with fury. 

“Fuck you!” she snaps through jagged breaths.

But her burst of defiance does not push him to yield. Like a shadow falling, his beautiful features lose their regal aloofness. He glares at her through those few, brilliant strands of hair; his gorgeous face twists into raw, feral power. Rose’s insides burble and roil.

_ Holy god... _

“Seems like you don’t understand who’s been paying the real tab in this relationship,” he lectures, cold as a snake. “Who’s been keeping the cops off your back. Who sleeps outside your apartment when shit’s going down on your block, keeping you safe. Who’s been taking the heat for your bitch-ass bullshit.”

“I…” Rose’s voice trembles.  _ I am the center of his universe. _

“No talking.” He tightens his grip on her wrists, his green eyes flashing with possessive malice.

She bites her tongue and whimpers. Her bare breasts heave up and down with tortured exhales. Slow and unhurried, he unbuttons his jeans and snicks down the zipper.

He takes her wrists in each hand and brings them down, mashing her hands against the sides of the wooden sink base. Kneeing her legs apart further, her ass slides forward. Her glistening seam drags a snail stripe behind her until she’s flush with the edge, her ass cheeks spilling over the cusp of the counter.

“I will do more than fuck you,” he says, still as the eye of a storm. His voice fills the vacuous tiled room. “I will mark you, my girl.”

Her heart plunges into her cunt; her lips part with shock. A spasm of stinging slick slides down the wooden cabinet.

“You will learn who you belong to.” His words land like a juicy thud in her clit. “And you will respect me.”

“Oh my—” she wails. “UNH!”

His first thrust breaks her open around his thick meat. 

She gushes, sucking him deeper into her tight little channel. He’s so filling,  _ oh god. _ The veins lacing around his shaft drag against her walls with a dozen tiny sensations. He invades her with bursts of electrical currents.

The General makes her take him up to his root, rolling those sensuous hips like he’s pushing aside anything else that might make a home in her soul.

_ He sleeps in his car watching over my apartment? _

She cries, her high, breathy sob covering the slick, wet sounds of their bodies coupling. Her ass bites the edge of the counter with every pound, pound, pound into her waiting clutch. She arches her back, squirming,  _ writhing _ as he fills her again and again.

“Don’t move your hands,” he growls as he releases her wrists.

It’s not like she could. 

He’s ploughing her into a vivid subspace of  _ him.  _ His leather/oak smell, the sound of his viril grunts, the whorl of images and symbols spanning across his collarbones and the pale column of his neck. Rose melts.

“You’re mine, mama.” The smokey bass of his voice fizzes in her blood.

He grips her waist and saws through her soaking catch, building an ache in her belly —a desperation for him to invade and claim every inch of her. Filaments of white light start to coalesce again in her core but she knows he’s miles away from coming.

“Say it!” he snarls.

“I’m.... I’m…” Rose shudders, her head lolling to one side. “I’m c…” She whines helplessly.

“Don’t you dare come until you say it!”

Sweat trails down her bare sternum, and the nerves deep inside her pussy vibrate like a live wire where he’s hitting them. She teeters on the edge, her breaths coming out in short little pants. 

“I’m yours,” she sighs, spilling, falling, floating in the warm, rippling void of release.

“That’s right,” he chuffs through his teeth, his voice like a low trap bass under the floating sparkles of her orgasm.

Rose swims in his savage love: that forceful, all-encompassing, drowning, obsession that’s launched her out of suffering and into bliss. It hits her like a mack truck, she’s been running herself so ragged taking care of Paige, she didn’t even notice he was taking care of her.

Even as she comes down from her high, he hasn’t stopped pistoning his hardened rod into her pussy at full speed. In the jolting, red-tenderness of her aftershocks, his cock stirs in her a deeper rawness. A new precipice looms further inside of her, and she’s not sure what will happen if she keels over its edge.

_ Oh my god, he wants everything. _

She struggles again.

“I can’t!” she wails.

He opens his eyes, piercing her. A look of utter tenderness shines in his gold-lashed gaze. Still cycling his smooth hips, he cocks his head.

“Do you want me?”

It sounds less like the taking monster of five minutes ago, and now she sees he is a beast of colossal, mythic power but he wears a silver collar. The leash is in her hand.

Rose can’t handle the feelings welling up from the core of her body. His boss could have turned him in to the cops for what she did. Hell, that asshole could have pulled a gun on her guardian angel. He could have died for her tonight. 

_ How can he stare down everything dark and evil in the world… just to make my life better? _

Her bones quake, her chest flutters with sobs. Dampness pours down her cheeks. 

“I want you!” she weeps. “Oh god, I want you, I want you!”

The fire stokes again between her legs, building in heat. Flames in her pelvis suck the oxygen out of her lungs.

She comes again with an explosion of light.

“Hnng, baby,” he groans, his body tensing. He grips her thighs and pummels her pussy with longing, searching thrusts.

When he throws his head back, the sound that wrings from his full lips consumes her. It sounds like something between a warrior in the heat of battle and a lost, wild creature looking for his home.

_ Let me be your home. _

She mews, “Come for me!”

The General starts to judder. He spends with a torrent: an unleashing that buckles him forward, snarling and chuffing into Rose’s neck. She foregoes his orders and wraps her arms around his shoulders, steadying him as he climbs down from his peak. Labored exhales steam against the sensitive skin behind her ear. 

Rose shakily pushes his hat off his head, letting it fall to the floor, and she rakes her fingernails through his copper hair. When his breathing slows, he closes his lips around her earlobe and kisses.

He moans and lifts his head.

“Fuck, mama,” he mutters, hazy-eyed.

Sorrow floods Rose’s eyes, warping his beautiful image into soft, watercolor edges.

“I’m s-sorry!” she hiccups. “I shouldn’t have tried to keep things seperate —I pushed you away!”

She covers her mouth and folds forward, sobs wracking her shoulders.

“No no, angel.” He pulls her hands back and thumbs away her tears. “All this is for you, baby.”

The passion in his emerald gaze burns down at her through the debauched, bronze filaments of his hair. Her throat tightens as he encircles her little body. Smells of spicy musk and leather drift from his shoulder where she buries her face.

“This ain’t your world, mama. I know that,” he says, stroking her back. “I want you away from all this shit, somewhere safe. When you’re ready, I got a place for you. There’s enough room for your sister too.”

Rose pulls back, her heart thudding with an electric burst of surprise.

“Wait, what?” she sniffs. “You bought a house?”

His laugh is like a smooth pour of dark liquor in her veins.

“For you, when you’re ready.” 

“Where is the house?” she chatters, “How many bedrooms? Is there a sink disposal? Because I really hate cleaning the sink!”

He listens quietly as she lets herself get swept up. She knows she’s being giddy about his extravagant gift because it’s easier to gush than to come unraveled. Rose could cry with raw relief.  _ No more apartment lease.  _

As he rubs her arm, Rose wonders if he rented shitty little cinder block apartments once, too. There’s so little she knows about him, really.

“I think I owe Paige a long explanation,” she says, her voice edged with guilt.

“Take as long as you need,” he replies. “I paid cash, so it's your house outright.”

“How could…?” She shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek so hard it hurts. 

It hurts, how much she loves him.

“Better go talk to your sister.” Hux sets Rose down and unzips his black bomber jacket. “Any longer and she’ll think I fucked you!”

He flashes her a wicked grin.

Rose scrunches her nose crossly at him and then howls when she looks down at her torn dress.

“Put this on.” He shrugs out of his jacket, exposing the scrolling images inked up his sturdy arms. 

That’s when she notices it.

A new tattoo blooming in scarlet and vermillion on the inside of his upper arm, right where his bicep brushes against his chest, his heart.

It’s a red rose drawn like a Victorian science illustration with glistening drops of dew clinging to its lush, youthful petals. Beneath it, he’s christened the flower in old-school tattoo script.

_ Rose Tico _

Her heart kicks against her chest. She traces her fingertips over the ink, her lashes flickering, her words tangled up on her tongue.

He gathers her up and kisses her.

_ He said he would mark me, but I’ve marked him. _ Her heart beats wildly.

“Now you’d really better go,” he says when they part.

“Okay.”

Wrenching herself away from him feels like ripping out an artery. 

But she slips into the hall, peering in at him as she closes the bathroom door. She leaves him leaning against the sink base, smirking back at her with that sweet, arrogant curve in his lips.

When Rose steps outside, her friends have moved their cars around the exit like a police barricade. They descend on her all at once. 

Rey and Kaydel have come down from their buzz and they’re not happy. Finn and Poe look ready to kill somebody and Paige is nearly scream-crying.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Who are those people, Rose?”

“Are you doing something shady?”

“What’s with the redhead? Do you know him?”

Rose sighs and stuffs her hands into the pockets of the jacket.

Her hand closes around something small and hard.

She pulls out a pair of house keys and automatic door opener with a label attached.

_ 5022 Hyada Blvd NE, Tacoma WA 98422 _

“OH MY FUCKING GOD,” Rose shrieks.

“What the hell?” Finn bellows.

“Did you hear anything we just said?” Kaydel squawks.

“No…!” Rose snatches her purse from Rey and shakily yanks out her phone. “No, this can’t be possible, he couldn’t have!”

“...What are you doing?”

She punches the address into her phone.

“YES! HOLY SHIT!”

Rose screams and jumps up and down, whirling her keys in the air.

“ROSE!” Paige grabs her sister’s shoulders. “What the fuck is going on!!”

Flushing happily, Rose lifts her keys.

“You guys,” she pants, beaming. “You wanna check out the house my rich boyfriend got me?”

“Uh…” Finn’s eyebrows shoot up.

“It’s on the water!  _ Fucking beachfront! _ In a fancy, old-people neighborhood! _ ” _

“Oh, hell yeah I’m down!” Poe cheers.

“M’kay, you’re gonna have to spill about that boyfriend sitch,” Kaydel says. “Me and Finn will get the champagne, just text me the address.”

The friends disperse to their cars, leaving Paige and Rose to their rusted Honda Accord and a steely, betrayed silence.

Tacoma whizzes by the windows in jeweled light: streetlamps, neon signs, the moonlight on the rippling black waters of Commencement Bay. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Rose begins. 

“It’s breaking the law,” Paige bursts with fury. 

“I’m completely detached from the illegal part of the operation!” Rose protests. “I’m technically employed with the auto shop as a mechanic —I’m not officially the one fixing the books. He’s that careful, Paige!”

“I’m gonna lose you, Rose!”

“Ugh, for fuck’s sake, why do you have to be such a hard ass! How were we supposed to survive, huh?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” she glances at Rose for a second before fixing her eyes back on the road. Her tone goes cold. “It would be one thing if this was just a job. I get it, Rose. Shit is wildly unfair and honestly, I know we weren’t surviving before.” Her voice tightens with sadness. “I know.”

“Then why, Paige?” Rose snaps. “Why are you angry with me?”

“Because you’re like, in love with him or something. And he’s a criminal.”

Silence fills the cabin of the car. Paige puts on the blinker and turns onto a winding, hilly street. The car’s headlights cast beams on manicured hedges, pristine lawns and elegant wrought iron gates.

“I do love him,” Rose states simply. “And yeah, he’s a criminal.”

“Rose, I’m just worried that these kind of guys use and then discard women. How do you know he’s not doing that to you?” Paige says pleadingly.

But Rose doesn’t hear her sister.

“ _ Your destination is on the right,”  _ Google Maps chirps.

The Honda slows to a crawl, turning toward a tall, iron gate held up by classy, jutting stone pillars.

Silently, Rose lifts the little toggle in her hands and presses down on the gelled buttons until the gate swings open with slow, measured ceremony.

“Whoa,” Paige gasps.

At the bottom of the driveway stands an enormous house built into the cliff face overlooking the glittering expanse of Commencement Bay. The roof has multiple peaks to suggest an endless series of rooms built to gaze out at the splendor of the Puget Sound. Paige shuts off the engine and the headlights dim, letting the house’s own ground lights illuminate its magnificent, timber-frame design.

“You know how I know he loves me?” Rose grabs Paige’s hand. “Because this house isn’t for me and him. It’s for me and you.”

“Shit, Ro!” Paige laughs. Her eyes water, catching the moonlight in the thick droplets spilling from her lashes. “I should have trusted you; you never love unlovable things.”

Brakes squeak beside them in the dark, signalling that their friends have arrived. Doors open and close and muffled sounds of awe filter in the periphery of the sisters’ moment.

But Rose and Paige don’t hear anything.

They embrace.


End file.
